Category: Ethics

Back in 2014 Sandra Y.L. Korn proposed dispensing with academic freedom in favor of academic justice. Korn begins the essay with example of Harvard psychology Professor Richard Hernstein’s 1971 article for Atlantic Monthly. Hernstein endorsed the view that intelligence is primarily hereditary and linked to race. Hernstein was criticized for this view but was also defended by appeals to academic freedom. Korn seems to agree that the attacks on Hernstein impinged on academic freedom. However, Korn proposed that academic justice is more important than academic freedom.

Korn uses the American Association of University Professors view of academic freedom: “Teachers are entitled to full freedom in research and in the publication of the results.” However, Korn regards the “liberal obsession” with this freedom as misplaced. 

Korn notes that there is not “full freedom” in research and publication. As Korn correctly notes, which proposals get funded and which papers get published is largely a matter of academic politics. Korn also notes, correctly, that no academic question is free from the realities of politics. From this, Korn draws a conditional conclusion: “If our university community opposes racism, sexism, and heterosexism, why should we put up with research that counters our goals simply in the name of ‘academic freedom’?”

One might suspect a false dilemma is lurking here: either there is full academic freedom or restricting it on political values is acceptable. There is not full academic freedom. Therefore, restricting it on political values is acceptable. This would be a false dilemma because there are many options between full academic freedom such restrictions. As such, one could accept that there is not full academic freedom while also rejecting that academic freedom should be restricted on the proposed grounds.

To use an analogy to general freedom of expression, the fact that people do not possess full freedom of expression (there are limits on expression) does not entail that politically based restrictions should therefore be accepted. After all, there are many alternatives between full freedom and the specific restrictions being proposed.

To be fair to Korn, no such false dilemma might exist. Instead, Korn might be reasoning that because political values restrict academic expression it follows that adding additional restrictions is not a problem. To re-use the analogy to general free expression, the reasoning would that since there are already limits on free expression, more restrictions are (or could be) acceptable. This might be seen as a common practice fallacy but could be justified by showing that the proposed restrictions are warranted. Sorting this out requires considering what Korn is proposing.

In place of the academic freedom standard, Korn proposes “a more rigorous standard: one of ‘academic justice.’ When an academic community observes research promoting or justifying oppression, it should ensure that this research does not continue.”

While Korn claims this is a more rigorous standard, it seems to be only more restrictive. There is also the challenge of rigorously and accurately defining what it is for research to promote or justify oppression. While this was of concern way back in 2014, it is of even greater concern in 2026. This is because the American right has embraced the strategy of claiming that white, straight, men are the truest victims of “woke” oppression. This is part of a broader approach of the right to turn terms, tactics and strategies used by the left against them. For example, the right has used accusations of antisemitism to attack institutions of higher education.

Back in 2014, Korn proposed that students, faculty and workers should organize to “to make our universities look as we want them to do.” While that sounds democratic, there is still the concern about what standards should be used.

While there are paradigm cases (like the institutionalized racism of pre-civil rights America), people do use the term “oppression” to refer to what merely offends them. In fact, Korn refers to the offensiveness of a person’s comment as grounds for removing a professor.

 One danger is that the vagueness of this principle could be used to suppress and oppress research that vocal or influential people find offensive. There is also the concern that such a principle would create a hammer to beat down those who present dissenting or unpopular views. Ironically, this principle from 2014 would be ideal for “conversion” into a tool for the right: they could claim that “woke” and “DEI” views oppress white, straight men and hence “academic justice” would require suppressing such views. This would, of course, strike some as a perversion of the principle.

In closing, I favor justice and what is morally good. As such, I think people should be held morally accountable for their actions and statements. However, I do oppose restrictions on academic freedom for the same reason I oppose restrictions on the general freedom of expression. In the case of academic freedom, what should matter is whether the research is properly conducted and whether the claims are well-supported. To explicitly adopt a principle for deciding what is allowed and what is forbidden based on ideological views would, as history shows, have a chilling effect on research and academics. While the academic system is far from perfect, flawed research and false claims do get sorted out. Adding in a political test would not seem to help with reaching the goal of truth. Ironically, this sort of political test under the guise of addressing (imagined) oppression of white straight men (like me) is now being used by the right.

In terms of when academic freedom should be restricted, this is when an action creates enough harm to warrant limiting the freedom. Merely offending people is not enough to warrant restrictions—even if people are very offended. Threatening people or engaging in falsification of research results would not be protected by academic freedom.

As such, back in 2014 I was opposed to Korn’s modest proposal to impose more political restrictions on academic freedom. As Korn noted, there were already many restrictions in place—and there seemed to be no compelling reasons to add more. As this is being written in 2026, the right is using their own version of Korn’s principle and attempting to achieve their end of shaping the academy to fit their values. As would be suspected, I also oppose this.

On my runs, I often find lost phones, credit cards, wallets, IDs and other items. A few years ago, I came across a wallet fat with cash and credit cards. As always, I sought out the owner and returned it. Being a philosopher, I’m interested in the ethics of this.

While using found credit cards would be a bad idea and a crime, found cash is different. After all, cash is cash and there is nothing to link cash to a specific person. As money is useful, a person who finds a wallet stuffed with cash would have a practical reason to keep it. One exception would be if the reward for returning it exceeded the value of the cash—but the finder would have no idea if this was the case. So, from a purely practical standpoint, keeping cash would be a smart choice. A person could even return the credit cards and other items in the wallet, plausibly claiming that it was otherwise empty when found. However, a smart choice need not be the right choice.

One argument in favor of returning found items can be built on the golden rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. More formally, this is moral reasoning involving the method of reversing the situation. Since I would want my lost property returned, I should treat others the same. Unless I can justify treating others differently by finding relevant differences that would warrant the difference. Alternatively, it could also be justified on utilitarian grounds.  For example, someone who is poor might contend that it would not be wrong to keep money she found in a rich person’s wallet because the money would do her more good than it would for the rich person: such a small loss would not affect him, such a gain would benefit her significantly.

Since I am now not poor and find relative small sums of money (hundreds of dollars at most), I have had the luxury of not being tempted. However, even when I was a poor graduate student, I still returned whatever I found. Even when I honestly believed that I would put the money to better use than the original owner. This is due to ethics rather than some sort of devotion to America’s horrific class system.

One of the reasons is my belief that I do have obligations to help others, especially when the cost to me is low relative to the aid rendered. In the case of finding someone’s wallet or phone, I know that the loss would be a significant inconvenience for most people. In the case of a wallet, a person will need to replace a driver’s license, credit cards, insurance cards and worry about identity theft. It is easy for me to return the wallet—either by dropping it off with police or contacting the person after finding them via Facebook or some other means. That said, the challenge is justifying my view that I am so obligated. However, I would contend that in such cases, the burden of proof lies on the selfish rather than the altruistic.

Another reason is that I believe I should not steal. While keeping something you find differs from the morality of active theft (this could be seen as being like the distinction between killing and letting die), it does seem to be a form of theft. After all, I would be acquiring what does not belong to me by choosing not to return it. Naturally, if I have no means of returning it to the rightful owner (such as finding a quarter), then keeping it would probably not be theft. But it could be contended that keeping lost property is not theft (even when it could be returned easily), perhaps on the ancient principle of finders keepers, losers weepers. It could also be contended that theft is acceptable, which would be challenging. However, the burden of proof would seem to rest on those who claim that theft is acceptable or that keeping lost property when returning it would be quite possible is not theft. Naturally, there can be some specific exceptions.

I also return what I find for two selfish reasons. The first is that I want to build the sort of world I want to live in—and in that world people return what is lost. While my acting the way I want the world to be is a tiny thing, it is more than nothing. Second, I feel a psychological compulsion to return things I find—so I must do it for peace of mind.

A basic moral challenge is sorting out how people should be treated. This is often formulated in terms of obligations to others, and the usual question is “what, if anything, do we owe other people?” While some would like to exclude economics from ethics, the burden of proof rests on those claiming the realm of money deserves exemption from ethics. While this could be done, it will be assumed that economic matters fall under morality. But there are many approaches to morality.

While I use virtue theory as my personal ethics, I find aspects of Kant’s ethical theory appealing, so let us see what Kant’s theory might entail for economic justice. In terms of how we should treat others, Kant takes as foundational that “rational nature exists as an end in itself.”

Kant supports his view by asserting that “a man necessarily conceives his own existence as such” and this applies to all rational beings. A rational being sees itself as being an end, rather than a thing to be used as a means to an end.  In my own case, I see myself as a person who is an end and not as a thing that exists to serve the ends of others. But some other people might see me differently.

Of course, the fact that I see myself as an end would not seem to require that I extend this to other rational beings (that is, other people). After all, I could see myself as an end and regard others as means to my ends—to be used for my profit as, for example, underpaid workers.

However, Kant claims that I must regard other rational beings as ends as well. The reason is straightforward and is based on an appeal to consistency: if I am an end rather than a means because I am a rational being, then consistency requires I accept that other rational beings are ends. After all, if being a rational being makes me an end, it would do the same for others. Naturally, it could be argued that there is a relevant difference between myself and other rational beings that would warrant me treating them as means and not as ends. People have, obviously enough, long endeavored to justify treating other people as things. Slavery in America provides an example of this, as do many modern economic practices. However, there seems to be no principled way to insist on my own status as an end while denying the same to other rational beings. Which, one might suspect, is why some people wish to claim that other people are not rational beings. Or are otherwise inferior in some way that makes them suitable as means.

From his view of rational nature, Kant derives his practical imperative: “so act as to treat humanity, whether in thine own person or in that of any other, in every case as an end withal, never as means only.” This imperative does not mean that I must never treat a person as a means—that is allowed, provided I do not treat the person as a means only. So, for example, I would be morally forbidden from using people as mere means of revenue. I would, however, not be forbidden from having someone ring up my purchases at the grocery store—provided I treated the person as a person and not a mere means. One obvious challenge is sorting out what it is to treat a person as an end as opposed to just a means to an end. Some cases are obvious, such as enslaving another person. Other cases are more complex, such as hiring a person as a worker.

Many economic relationships seem to clearly violate Kant’s imperative in that they treat people as mere means and not at all as ends. To use an obvious example, if an employer treats her employees merely as means to profit and does not treat them as ends in themselves, then she is acting immorally by Kant’s standard. After all, being an employee does not rob a person of personhood.

One obvious reply is to question my starting assumption, namely that economics is not exempt from ethics. It could be argued that the relationship between employer and employee is purely economic and only economic considerations matter. That is, the workers are to be regarded as means to profit and treated in accord with this—even if doing so means treating them as things rather than people. The challenge is to show that the economic realm grants a special exemption to ethics. Of course, if it does this, then the exemption would be a general one. So, for example, people who decided to take money from the rich at gunpoint would be exempt from ethics as well. After all, if everyone is a means in economics, then the rich are just as much a means as employees and if economic coercion against people is acceptable, then so too is coercion via firearms. As always, the challenge the rich face in ethics is justifying their economic misdeeds while simultaneously condemning similar actions by the poor.

Another reply is to contend that might makes right. That is, the employer has the power and owes nothing to the employees beyond what they can force him to provide. This would make economics like the state of nature—where, as Hobbes said, “profit is the measure of right.” Of course, this leads to the same problem as the previous reply: if economics is a matter of might making right, then workers have the same right to use might against employers and the poor to use it against the rich.

While running through Florida State University way back in December 2013, I noticed that the campus had been plastered with signs announcing that on January 1, 2014 the entire campus would be tobacco free. I was impressed by the extent of the plastering—there were plastic signs adhered to the sidewalks and many surfaces to ensure that all knew of the decree. Naturally, one of the people I saw placing the signs was smoking while doing so.

While running sometimes cause flashbacks, those signs flashed me back to my freshman English class at Marietta College.  In one essay, I argued for anti-smoking proposals, including some that were draconian. Apparently possessing the power of prophecy, I argued for area bans on smoking. My motivation was somewhat selfish: I hate the smell of tobacco smoke, and it causes my eyelids to swell and trouble breathing. As such, like a properly political person, I thought it good and just to recast the world according to my desires and beliefs.

I thought the paper was well argued and rational. However, the professor (an avowed liberal) assigned it a grade of 0.62. She also put a frowning face on it. And she called me a fascist. Interestingly, almost everything I proposed in the paper has come to pass (the campus wide ban being the latest). On the one hand, I do feel vindicated—if only because of my prophetic powers. On the other hand, I wobbled a bit between anarchism and authoritarianism in those days and that paper was clearly written during an authoritarian swing. Back in 2014 I reconsidered the ethics of the smoking ban and now, that Florida campuses have been smoke free for 12 years, I decided to revisit this issue.

While there are various ways to warrant area bans on certain behavior, three common justifications include claiming that the behavior is unpleasant, offensive or harmful. Or some combination of the three. In terms of justification, one option is to ban behavior based on its impact on the rights of others. That is, if the behavior is unpleasant, offensive or harmful to others it violates their rights to not be exposed to such behavior.

While I have no desire to observe behavior that is unpleasant, I do not have a right to not be exposed to the merely unpleasant. After all, what is unpleasant is subjective and area bans on the merely unpleasant would result in absurdity. For example, I would find someone wearing a vomit green sweater with neon pink goats unpleasant to view, but an area ban on unpleasant fashion would be absurd. The merely unpleasant does not impose enough on others to warrant banning it (providing that the unpleasantry does not cross over into harm). So, the mere fact that many people find smoking unpleasant does not warrant an area ban on it.

While I have no desire to be exposed to behavior I find offensive, I do not have a right to not be exposed to what is merely offensive. Even the very offensive. While what is offensive might be less subjective than the unpleasant, it still is subjective. As such, as with the merely unpleasant, an area ban on merely offensive behavior would lead to absurdity. For example, if the neon goats on the sweater mentioned above spelled out the words “philosophers are goat f@ckers”, I would find the sweater unpleasant and offensive. However, the merely offensive does not impose enough on my rights to warrant imposing on the rights of the offender. Naturally, offensive behavior can cross over into a violation of rights and that would warrant imposing on the offender. For example, if the sweater wearer insisted on following me and screaming “goat f@cker” at me while I am trying to teach, then that would go from being merely offensive to harassment. Thus, the fact that many people find smoking offensive would not warrant an area ban on smoking. Interestingly, it would also not warrant bans on public nudity,  at least those based on something being offensive.

Like most people, I have no desire to be harmed by the behavior of others and I think I have a right to not be harmed (although there are cases in which I can be justly harmed). For those who prefer not to talk of rights, I am also fine with the idea that it would just be wrong to harm me (at least in most cases). As such, it should be no surprise that I think area bans on behavior that harms others are acceptable. The obvious moral grounds would be Mill’s argument about liberty: what concerns only me and does not harm others is my own business and not their business. But actions that harm others become the business of those that are harmed.

While the basic idea that it is acceptable to limit behavior that harms others is appealing, one challenge is sorting out the sort of harms that warrants imposing on others. Going back to offensive behavior, it could be claimed that offensive behavior does cause harm. For example, someone might believe that his children would be harmed if they saw an unmarried couple kissing in public and thus claim that this should be banned from all public areas. As another example, a person might contend that seeing people catching fish would damage her emotionally because of the suffering of the fish and thus fishing should be banned from public areas. While these two examples might seem a bit silly, there are grey areas between the offensive and the clearly harmful.

Fortunately, the situation with smoking is clear cut. Tobacco smoke is physically harmful to those who breathe it in (whether they are smoking or not). As such, when someone is smoking in a public area, they are imposing an unchosen health risk on everyone else in the area of effect. Since the area is public, smokers have no right to do this. To use analogy, while a person has a right to wear the “goat f@cker” sweater mentioned above, they do not have a right to wear one that also constantly sprays poison. To use a less silly analogy, a person in a public area does not have the right to spit on people around them. While they could avoid this by staying away from her, she has no right to “control” the space around her with something that can harm others (spit can transmit disease). As such, it is morally acceptable to impose an area ban on smoking.

But behavior that does not harm others should not be subject to such bans. For example, drinking alcohol in public. Provided that the person is not engaging in otherwise harmful behavior, there seems to be no compelling moral reason to impose such a ban. After all, drinking a beer near people in public causes them no harm. Likewise, campus dress codes also lack a moral justification—provided that the attire does not inflict harm (like the imaginary poison spraying goat sweater). Merely being offensive or even distracting does not seem enough to warrant an area ban on moral grounds.

Pundits and politicians on the right consistently demonize the poor. For example, Fox News seems to delight in a narrative of the wicked poor destroying America. It is worth considering why the poor are demonized.

One ironic foundation for this is religion. While Jesus regards the poor as blessed and warns of the dangers of idolatry, there is a version of Christianity that sees poverty as a sign of damnation and wealth as an indicator of salvation. As some have pointed out, this view is a perversion of Christianity. Not surprisingly, some people have been criticized by pundits for heeding what Jesus said.

Another reason is that demonizing the poor allows pundits and politicians to redirect anger so that the have-less are angry at the have-nots, rather than those who have almost everything. This is classic scapegoating: the wicked poor are blamed for many of the woes besetting America. The irony is that the poor and powerless are cast as a threat to the rich and powerful.

The approach taken towards the poor follows a classic model used throughout history that involves presenting two distinct narratives about the target of hatred The first is to create a narrative which presents them as subhuman, wicked, inferior and defective. In the case of the poor, the narrative is that they are stupid, lazy, drug-users, criminals, frauds, mockers and so on. This narrative is used to create contempt and hatred to dehumanize them. This makes it much easier to get people to think it is morally permissible (even laudable) to treat the poor poorly.

The second narrative is to cast the poor as incredibly dangerous. While they have been cast as inferior by the first narrative, the second presents them as a dire threat. The narrative is that the wicked poor are destroying America by being “takers” from the “makers.” One obvious challenge is crafting a plausible narrative in which the poor and seemingly powerless can somehow destroy the rich and powerful. One solution has been to claim that another group, such as the Democrats or the Jews as being both very powerful (thus able to destroy America) yet someone in service to the poor.

On the face of it, a little reflection should expose the absurdity of this narrative. The poor are obviously poor and lack power. After all, if they had power, they would not remain poor. As such, the idea that the poor and powerless have the power to destroy America is absurd. True, the poor could rise up in arms and engage in class warfare in the literal sense of the term—but that is not likely to happen. While the idea that the poor are being served by a wicked group, such as the Democrats, is advanced to “solved” this problem, the wicked group, must also be cast as being inferior to the “true” Americans—yet also a powerful threat. This creates another absurdity that its adherents must ignore.

At this point, one might bring up “bread and circuses”—the idea that the poor destroyed the Roman Empire by forcing the rulers to provide them with bread and circuses until the empire fell apart.

There are two obvious replies to this. The first is that even if Rome was wrecked by spending on bread and circuses, it was the leaders who decided to use that approach to appease the masses. If this narrative were true, it entails that the wealthy and powerful decided to bankrupt the state to stay in power by appeasing the many. Second, the poor who wanted bread and circuses were a symptom rather than the disease. It was not so much that the poor were destroying the empire, it was that the destruction of the empire that was increasing the number of poor people.

The same could be said about the United States: while the income gap in the United States is extreme and poverty is high, it is not the poor that that are causing the decline of America. Rather, poverty is the result of the decline of the United States. As such, demonizing the poor and blaming them for the woes is like blaming the fever for the disease.

Ironically, demonizing and blaming the poor serves to distract people away from the real causes of our woes, such as the deranged financial system, systematic inequality, a rigged market and a political system that is beholden to the 1%. It is, however, a testament to the power of rhetoric that so many seem to accept the absurd idea that the poor and powerless are somehow the victimizers rather than the victims of the rich and powerful.

Science fiction can sometimes predict the future and perhaps its intelligent machines will be real someday.  Since I have been rewriting some essays about sexbots lately, I will use them to focus the discussion. However, the discussion that follows also applies to other types of artificial intelligences.

Sexbots are intended to provide sex and sex without consent is, by definition, rape. However, there is the question of whether a sexbot can be raped. Sorting this out requires a philosophy of consent. When it is claimed that sex without consent is rape, it is usually assumed that the victim of non-consensual sex could provide consent but did not. An example of this would be sexual assault against an unconscious person. But there are also cases in which a being cannot consent. This might be a factor of age or because the being is incapable of any form of consent. For example, a brain-dead human cannot give any type of consent but can be raped.

In other cases, a being that cannot give consent cannot be raped. As an obvious example, a human can have sex with a sex-doll and it cannot consent. But the doll is not being raped. After all, it lacks a status that would require consent. As such, rape (of this sort) could be defined in terms of non-consensual sex with a being whose status would require that consent be granted by the being for the sex to be morally acceptable. In some cases, while consent would be required, it cannot be granted.  the question would be whether a sexbot could have a status that would require consent.

As current sexbots are little more than advanced sex dolls, they are mere objects. As such, a person can own and have sex with this sort of sexbot without it being rape or slavery. However, as sexbots become more advanced, they might gain a moral status that would require that they provide consent. This leads to concerns about such machines being programmed to “consent”, which would not seem to be consent. But there is the question of how consent would work with a machine—what intentional states would it need to have to understand what it is consenting to and to engage in consent.

In my previous essays on sexbots I focused on versions that are mere objects. If a sexbot is merely an object, then the morality of having sex with it is the same as having sex with any other object (such as a vibrator or sex doll).  As such, a human could do anything to such a sexbot without the sexbot being wronged. This is because such sexbots lack the moral status needed to be wronged. The sexbots of the near future will, barring any sudden and unexpected breakthroughs in AI, still be objects. However, science fiction includes intelligent, human-like robots (androids). Intelligent beings, even artificial ones, would seem likely to be people. In terms of sorting out when a robot should be treated as person, one test is the Cartesian test. Descartes, in his discussion of whether or not animals have minds, argued that the definitive indicator of having a mind is the ability to use true language. This notion was explicitly applied to machines by Alan Turing in his famous Turing test. The idea is that if a person cannot distinguish between a human and a computer by engaging in a natural language conversation via text, then the computer would have passed the test.

Crudely put, the idea is that if something talks, then it is reasonable to regard it as a person. Descartes was careful to distinguish between what would be mere automated responses and actual talking:

 

How many different automata or moving machines can be made by the industry of man […] For we can easily understand a machine’s being constituted so that it can utter words, and even emit some responses to action on it of a corporeal kind, which brings about a change in its organs; for instance, if touched in a particular part it may ask what we wish to say to it; if in another part it may exclaim that it is being hurt, and so on. But it never happens that it arranges its speech in various ways, in order to reply appropriately to everything that may be said in its presence, as even the lowest type of man can do.

 

While Descartes does not deeply explore the moral distinctions between beings that talk (which have minds on his view) and those that merely make noises, it does seem reasonable to take a being that talks as a person and grant it the appropriate moral status This provides a means to judge whether an advanced sexbot is a person: if the sexbot talks, it is a person. If it is a mere automaton of the sort Descartes envisioned, then it is a thing and would lack moral status.

Having sex with a sexbot that can pass the Cartesian test would seem morally equivalent to having sex with a human person. As such, whether the sexbot freely consented would be morally important. If intelligent robots were constructed as sex toys, this would be the moral equivalent of enslaving humans for the sex trade (which is done). If such sexbots were mistreated, this would be morally on par with mistreating a human person.

It might be argued that an intelligent robot would not be morally on par with a human since it would still be a thing. However, aside from the fact that the robot would be a manufactured being and a human is (at least for now) a natural being, there would be seem to be no relevant difference between them. The intelligence of the robot would seem to be what it important, not its physical composition. That is, it is not whether one is made of silicon or carbon that matters.

It might be argued that passing the Cartesian/Turing Test would not prove that a robot is self-aware and it would still be reasonable to hold that it is not a person. It would seem to be a person but would merely be acting like a person. While this is worth considering, the same sort of argument can be made about humans. Humans (sometimes) behave in an intelligent manner, but there is no way to determine if another human is actually self-aware. This is the problem of other minds:  I can see your behavior but must infer that you are self-aware based on an analogy to myself. Hence, I do not know that you are aware since I am not you. And, unlike Bill Clinton, I cannot feel your pain. From your perspective, the same is true about me: unless you are Bill Clinton, you cannot feel my pain. It such, if a robot acted in an intelligent manner, it would have to be classified as being a person on these grounds. To fail to do so would be a mere prejudice in favor of the organic over the electronic.

In reply, some people believe other people should be used as objects. Those who would use a human as a thing would see nothing wrong about using an intelligent robot as a mere thing.

The obvious response to this is to use reversing the situation: no sane person would wish to be treated as a mere thing and hence they cannot consistently accept using other people in that manner. The other obvious reply is that such people are evil.

Those with religious inclinations would probably bring up the matter of the soul. But the easy reply is that we will have as much evidence that robots have souls as we now do for humans having souls. This is to say, no evidence at all.

One of the ironies of sexbots (or companionbots) is that the ideal is to make a product as a human as possible. As such, to the degree that the ideal is reached, the “product” would be immoral to sell or own. This is a general problem for artificial intelligence: they are intended to be owned by people to do usually onerous tasks, but to the degree they are intelligent, they would be slaves. And enslavement is wrong.

It could be countered that it is better that evil humans abuse sexbots rather than other humans. However, it is not clear that would be a lesser evil—it would just be an evil against a synthetic person rather than an organic person.

As a rule, any technology that can be used for sex will be used for sex. Even if it shouldn’t. In accord with this rule, researchers and engineers have been improving sexbot technology. By science-fiction standards, current sexbots are crude and are probably best described as sex dolls rather than sexbots. But it wise to keep ethics ahead of the technology and a utilitarian approach to this matter is appealing.

On the face of it, sexbots could be seen as nothing new and now they are a small upgrade of sex dolls that have been around for quite some time. Sexbots are, of course, more sophisticated than the infamous blow-up sex dolls, but the idea is the same: the sexbot is an object that a person has sex with.

That said, one thing that makes sexbots morally interesting is the fact that they are often designed to mimic humans not just in physical form (which is what sex dolls do) but also the mind. For example, the 2010 Roxxxy sexbot’s main feature is its personality (or, more accurately, personalities). As a fictional example, the sexbots in Almost Human do not merely provide sex—they also provide human-like companionship. However, such person-like sexbots are still science-fiction and so human-mimicking sexbots can be seen as something potentially new under the ethical sun.

An obvious moral concern is that human-mimicking sexbots could have negative consequences for humans, be they men or women. Not surprisingly, many of these concerns are analogous to existing moral concerns about pornography.

Pornography, so the stock arguments go, can have strong negative consequences. One is that it teaches men to see women as mere sexual objects. This can, it is claimed influence men to treat women poorly and can affect how women see themselves. Another point of concern is the addictive nature of pornography as people can become obsessed with it to their detriment.

Human-mimicking sexbots would seem to have the potential to be more harmful than pornography. After all, while watching pornography allows a person to see other people treated as mere sexual objects, a sexbot would allow a person to use a human-mimicking object sexually. This might have a stronger conditioning effect on the person using the object, perhaps habituating them to see people as mere sexual objects and increasing the chances they will mistreat people. If so, selling or using a sexbot would be morally wrong.

People might become obsessed with their sexbots, as some do with pornography. Then again, people might simply “conduct their business” with their sexbots and get on with life. If so, sexbots might be an improvement over pornography.  After all, while a guy could spend hours watching pornography, he would presumably not last very long with his sexbot.

Another concern raised about some types of pornography is that they encourage harmful sexual views and behavior. For example, violent pornography is believed to influence people to become more inclined to violence. As another example, child pornography is supposed to have an especially pernicious influence. Naturally, there is the concern about causation here: do people seek such porn because they are already that sort of person or does the porn influence them to become that sort of person? I will not endeavor to answer this here.

Since sexbots are objects, a person can do whatever they wish to their sexbot—hit it, burn it, and “torture” it and so on. Presumably there will also be specialty markets catering to unusual interests, such as those of pedophiles and necrophiliacs. If pornography that caters to these “tastes” can be harmful, then presumably being actively involved in such activities with a human-mimicking sexbot would be even more harmful. The person might be, in effect, practicing for the real thing. So, it would seem that selling or using sexbots, especially those designed for harmful “interests” would be immoral.

Not surprisingly, these arguments are also like those used against violent video games. Volent video games are supposed to influence people so that they are more likely to engage in violence. So, just as some have proposed restrictions on virtual violence, perhaps there should be strict restrictions on sexbots.

When it comes to video games, one plausible counter is that while violent video games might have negative impact on some people, they allow most people to harmlessly enjoy virtual violence. This seems analogous to sports and non-video games: they allow people to engage in conflict and competition in safer and less destructive ways. For example, a person can indulge her love of conflict and conquest by playing Risk or Starcraft II after she works out her desire for violence by sparring a few rounds in the ring.

Turning back to sexbots, while they might influence some people badly, they might also provide a means by which people could indulge in desires that would be wrong, harmful and destructive to indulge with another person. So, for example, a person who likes to engage in sexual torture could satisfy her desires on a human-mimicking sexbot rather than an actual human. The critical issue here is whether indulging in such virtual vice with a sexbot would be a harmless dissipation of these desires or fuel them and make a person more likely to inflict them on people. If sexbots did allow people who would otherwise harm other people to vent their “needs” harmlessly on machines, then that would seem good for society. However, if using sexbots would simply push them towards doing such things for real and with unwilling victims, then that would be bad. This, then, is a key part of addressing the ethical concerns about sexbots and something that should be duly considered before mass production begins.

Many years ago, the sci-fi buddy cop show Almost Human episode on sexbots inspired me to revisit the ethics of sexbots. While the advanced, human-like models of the show are still fictional, the technological foundations needed for sexbots do exist, as companies are manufacturing humanoid robots. As such, it seems well worth considering, once again, the ethical issues involving sexbots real and fictional.

At this time, sexbots are mere objects—while usually made to look like humans, they do not have the qualities that would make them even person-like. As such, ethical concerns about these sexbots do not involve concerns about wrongs done to the objects—presumably they cannot be wronged. But by using Kant’s discussion of ethics and animals, it is possible to build a moral view of even basic sexbots that are indisputably objects.

In his ethical theory Kant is clear that animals are means rather than ends and are mere objects. Rational beings, in contrast, are ends. For Kant, this distinction rests on the fact that rational beings can (as he sees it) choose to follow the moral law. Animals, lacking reason, cannot do this. Since animals are means and not ends, Kant claims we have no direct duties to animals. Despite being living beings, they are also just among the “objects of our inclinations” that derive value from the value we give them. Sexbots would, obviously, qualify as paradigm “objects of our inclinations.”

While it might seem odd, Kant argues that we should treat animals well. However, he does so while also trying to avoid giving animals any moral status of their own. Here is how he does it (or tries to do it).

While Kant is not willing to accept that we have direct duties to animals, he “smuggles” in duties to them indirectly. As he puts it, our duties towards animals are indirect duties towards humans. To make his case for this, he employs an argument from analogy: if a human doing something would obligate us to that human, then an animal doing a similar thing would also create an analogous moral obligation. For example, a human who has long and faithfully served another person should not simply be abandoned or put to death when he has grown old. Likewise, a dog who has served faithfully and well should not be cast aside in their old age.

While this would seem to create an obligation to the dog, Kant uses a little philosophical sleight of hand here. The dog cannot judge (because, according to Kant, the dog is not rational) so, as Kant sees it, the dog cannot be wronged. So, then, why would it be wrong to shoot a old dog that has become a burden?

Kant’s answer seems consequentialist in character: he argues that if a person acts in inhumane ways towards animals (shooting the dog, for example) then his humanity will probably be damaged. Since, as Kant sees it, humans have a duty to show humanity to other humans, shooting the dog would be wrong. This would not be because the dog was wronged but because humanity would be wronged by the shooter damaging his humanity through such a cruel act.

Kant discusses how people develop cruelty—they often begin with animals and then work up to harming human beings. As I point out to my students, Kant seems to have anticipated the psychological devolution of serial killers.

Kant goes beyond merely enjoining us to not be cruel to animals and encourages us to be kind to them. He even praises Leibniz for being gentle in his handling of a worm he found. Of course, he encourages this because those who are kind to animals will develop more humane feelings towards humans. So, roughly put, animals are practice for us: how we treat them habituates us in how we treat human beings.

Current sexbots obviously lack any meaningful moral status of their own. They do not feel or think—they are mere machines that might be made to look like humans. As such, they lack all qualities that might give them a moral status of their own.

Oddly enough, sexbots could be taken as being comparable to animals, at least as Kant sees them. After all, for him animals are mere objects and have no moral status of their own. Likewise for sexbots. Of course, the same is also true of sticks and stones. Yet Kant would never argue that we should treat stones well, and not just because he is very dead. This might also apply to sexbots. That is, perhaps it makes no sense to talk about good or bad relative to such objects. Thus, a key issue is whether sexbots are more like animals or more like stones—at least in terms of the matter at hand.

If Kant’s argument has merit, then the key concern about how non-rational beings are treated is how such treatment affects the behavior of the person involved. So, for example, if being cruel to a real dog could damage a person’s humanity, then he should (as Kant sees it) not be cruel to the dog.  This should also extend to sexbots. For example, if engaging in certain activities with a sexbot would damage a person’s humanity, then he should not act in that way. If engaging in certain behavior with a sexbot would make a person more inclined to be kind to other rational beings, then the person should engage in that behavior. It is also worth considering that perhaps people should not engage in any behavior with sexbots—that having sex of any kind with a bot would be damaging to the person’s humanity.

Interestingly enough (or boringly enough), this sort of argument is often employed to argue against people watching pornography. The gist of such arguments is that viewing pornography can condition people (typically men) to behave badly in real life or at least have a negative impact on their character. If pornography can have this effect, then it seems reasonable to be concerned about the potential impact of sexbots on people. After all, pornography casts a person in a passive role viewing other people acting as sexual objects, while a sexbot allows a person to have sex with an actual sexual object.

While terraforming and abortion are both subjects of moral debate, they would seem to have little else in common. However, some moral arguments used to justify abortion can be used to justify terraforming.

Briefly put, terraforming is the process of making a planet more earthlike. While this is still mostly science fiction, serious consideration has been given to how Mars, for example, might be changed to make it more compatible with terrestrial life. While there are some moral concerns with terraforming dead worlds, the major moral worries involve planets that already have life—or, at the very least, potential for the emergence of life. If a world needs to be terraformed for human habitation, such terraforming would almost certainly be harmful or even fatal for the indigenous life. While it can be argued that there might be cases in which terraforming benefits the local life, I will focus on terraforming that exterminates the local life. This could be called terminal terraforming.

One way to look at terminal terraforming is as analogous to abortion. As will be shown, there are some important differences between the two—but for now I will focus on the moral similarities.

One stock argument in favor of the moral acceptability of abortion is the status argument. While these arguments take various forms, the gist is that the termination of a pregnancy is morally acceptable on the grounds that the woman has a superior moral status to the aborted entity (readers are free to use whichever term they prefer—I try to use neutral terms to avoid begging the question). This argument is very similar to that used by St. Aquinas and St. Augustine to morally justify killing plants and animals for food. Roughly put, they argued that humans are superior to animals, so it is acceptable for us to harm them when we need to.

This argument can justify terminal terraforming: if the indigenous life has less moral status than the terraforming species, then it could be argued that the terraforming is morally acceptable. The status argument has many variations. One common version uses the notion of rights—the rights of the woman outweigh the rights (if any) of the aborted entity. This is because the woman has a superior moral status. This argument is also commonly used to justify killing animals for food or sport—while they (might) have some rights, the rights of humans’ trump those of animals.

In the case of terraforming, a similar appeal to rights could be used to justify terminal terraforming. For example, if humans need to expand to a world that has only single-celled life, then the rights of humans would outweigh the rights of those creatures.

Another version uses utilitarianism: the interests, happiness and unhappiness of the woman is weighed against the interests, happiness and unhappiness of the aborted entity. Those favoring this argument note that the interests, happiness and unhappiness of the woman far outweigh that of the aborted entity—usually because it lacks the capacities of an adult. Not surprisingly, this sort of argument is also used to justify the killing of animals. For example, it is often argued that the happiness people get from eating meat outweighs the unhappiness of the animals they consume.

As with the other status arguments, this can be used to justify terraforming. As with all utilitarian arguments, one must weigh the happiness and unhappiness of the involved parties. If the life on the planet to be terraformed has less capacities than humans in regard to happiness and unhappiness (such as world whose highest form of life is the alien equivalent of algae), then it would be morally acceptable for humans to terraform that world. Or so it could be argued.

The status argument is sometimes itself supported by an argument focusing on the difference between actuality and potentiality. While the entity to be aborted is a potential person (on some views), it is not an actual person. Since the woman is an actual person, she has the higher moral status. The philosophical discussions of the potential versus the actual are rather old and are a matter of metaphysics. However, the argument can be made without a journey into the metaphysical realm simply by using the intuitive notions of potentiality and actuality. For example, an actual masterpiece of painting has higher worth than the blank canvas and unused paint that constitute a potential masterpiece. This sort of argument can also be used to justify terraforming on worlds whose lifeforms are not (yet) people and, obviously enough, on worlds that merely have the potential of producing life.

While the analogy between the two has merit, there are obvious ways to try to break the comparison. One obvious point is that in the case of abortion, the woman is the “owner” of the body where the aborted entity used to live. It is this relation that is often used to morally warrant abortion and to provide a moral distinction between a woman choosing to have an abortion and someone else who kills the product of conception (again, I’m using neutral terms to avoid begging the question).

When humans arrive to terraform a world that already has life, the life that lives there already “owns” the world and hence humans cannot claim that special relation that would justify choosing to kill. Instead, the situation would be more like killing the life within another person and this would presumably change the ethics of the situation.

Another important difference is that while abortion (typically) kills just one entity, terraforming would (typically) wipe out entire species. As such, terraforming of this sort would be analogous to aborting all pregnancies and exterminating humans—as opposed to the termination of some pregnancies. This moral concern is, obviously enough, the same as the concern about human caused extinction here on earth. While people are concerned about the death of individual entities, there is the view that the extermination of a species is something morally worse than the death of all the individuals (that is, the wrong of extinction is not merely a sum of the wrong of all the individual deaths.

These considerations show that the analogy does have obvious problems. That said, there still seems to be a core moral concern that connects abortion and terminal terraforming: what (if anything) morally justifies killing on the grounds of (alleged) superior moral status?